The Black Season
by Bruh Studios
Summary: [Discontinued] Team Satomi’s second season in the big leagues is upon them. Will they continue their winning ways or suffer a sophomore slump? Or is something more tragic awaiting them, and the league.
1. 0: First Impact

**First Impact**

Warm sun poured down from above, the spotless azure sky stretching as far as the eye could see. A solitary figure seated at a table near a small café seemed content to allow the sun to wash over him. With bare arms crossed and eyes closed the young male leaned his head back, drawing in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. As the last of the breath slipped between his lips the man allowed his eyes to open, his green orbs shifting towards a closed laptop resting next to a bottle on the table. Sighing with a hint of resignation, a hand brushing aside a patch of blond hair, he reached for the device. The monitor easily flipped open, a blank screen coming into view as the man grabbed the bottle from the table. Tapping the screen to wake the dormant machine, fingers moving to untwist the bottle cap, the man took a slow drink of water. As he set the bottle back down the distinctive noise of metal scrapping against concrete filled the air, his eyes moving to spot the source of the racket. What greeted his gaze caused him to groan, "What do you want?"

"Jeeze River, as unsociable as ever," a young, dark skinned woman sighed, hands resting on top of a chair, "I noticed you sitting here and wondered how you were doing."

"You do realize we're no longer teammates, and haven't been for months now, Liz."

"Doesn't mean we can't still shoot the breeze from time to time," Liz offered sharply, cerulean eyes narrowing slightly, hands moving to rest on her hips.

River simply snorted at the notion, replacing the cap on the bottle and dropping it on the table. "What? You got a problem with that or something?"

Closing the laptop and picking it up, River rose from his seat, coming face to face with Liz, "I don't feel like wasting my time with the likes of Team Satomi."

"What's gotten into you man? Why are you always so… so… agh," Liz roared, her hands clutching clumps of auburn hair in frustration.

"By the way, tell Takeshi something for me. Tell him: things won't go down the same way as last year, any shot I have, I'm taking."

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" Liz shouted, jabbing a finger into River's chest, "Tomorrow's the opening ceremony."

"What's the point? He never listens anyway. Besides, I'll let my racing do the real talking," River shrugged before brushing away Liz's finger.

For a moment the two shared a scowl, River finally breaking the tension, choosing to turn and walk away. "Hey!" Liz shouted after his shrinking form, lifting a fist as if to threaten him.

Receiving no acknowledgment, Liz allowed her fist to drop to her side, a lopsided frown crossing her lips. "Why's he gotta be like that?" she wondered aloud.

"Who?" a new voice asked from behind Liz, startling the girl.

"God, Amy. Don't do that to me," Liz gasped, turning to see Amy's inquisitive gaze, "What's that look for?"

"Who were you just talking about?" Amy inquired, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh. River, he's as arrogant as ever," Liz finished with an annoyed snort, fingers scratching at the back of her head.

"Well you should've known that. He was never very friendly as a teammate anyway. You can't let it get to you," Amy reminded Liz softly, offering a small smile to reassure her friend.

"Yeah, I know," Liz sighed, "I know."

To be continued…


	2. 1: Head Games

**Chapter 1: Head Games**

The final rays of daylight flowed through narrow windows, tinting white walls with hues of yellow and red. Any quaint beauty was missed on a young woman seated on an exercise bike, her legs pressing heavily against the machine's pedals. Her slender fingers gripped the cushioned handlebars tightly, her arched back bobbing with each strenuous thrust as her energy waned. Muscles bemoaned their suffering, the familiar burn of exertion rising from her legs. Yielding for a moment, the whir of the machine carrying on, the young woman leaned back, her bronze skin glistening with sweat. Her labored breathing joined the machine as the only noise occupying the room. Brilliant cerulean eyes stared at the white panel ceiling before them, then closed as she drew in a deep, relaxing breath.

'_I don't feel like wasting my time with the likes of Team Satomi.'_

The voice was quiet yet sharp, tearing asunder the peace the woman held in that moment. Eyes slowly reopened, veiled anger flickering softly within them, a small frown set on her lips. Discontent to remain seated, she dismounted the bike, slipping off her shoes. Standing barefoot on the padded floor, fingers flexing apprehensively, she drew in a deep breath. Kicking her shoes aside, she fell into stance, releasing the breath as she glared intensely forward.

'_Things won't go down the same way as last year.'_

The words were like teeth, ripping into something deep within her, bleeding out her anger. With eyes closed she launched forward, delivering powerful kicks and swift strikes at an invisible opponent. Slowly, the foe developed distinct features. Trim arms grew from a narrow torso loosely draped in a gray sleeveless shirt. Out of the top sprouted a thing face, a set of jade eyes opening to gaze back tauntingly. Finishing the metamorphosis was a thick head of blond hair, heavy bangs falling over one eye. Seeing the completed figure cause the young woman to hesitate, frustrated anger washing over her, delivering a new wealth of energy. With added fervor she lashed out, willing herself to strike down the snide being bobbing before her. Each calculated move of hers was nimbly dodged as if the opponent foresaw her attack. With each dodge the enemy's flaunting grace became more apparent, and each miss increased her anger. Soon practiced routines and crisp moves regressed into wild swings, morphing her training into a frenzy.

'_Any shot I have, I'm taking.'_

A single, vigorous jab to her foe's face vanquished it from her mind's eye. Panting heavily, she opened her eyes to witness her handiwork, stunned to find an acquittal person before her. "Uh, hey Liz," the new individual greeted warily, "what's got you so worked up?"

"N-nothing! I was just training that's all," Liz sputtered back, slightly flustered as she lowered her clenched fist.

"With your eyes closed?" the young male doubted, an eyebrow slightly raised, "well I guess that's cool if it works for you," he finished with a casual shrug.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, blowing a few stray ebony bangs from his face, the man half turned towards the door. Glancing back, amber eyes meeting a distant gaze, he shrugged again, beginning his exit. The soft thump of his shoes against the floor caused Liz to contort her face into a grimace as conflicting thoughts warred in her head. Resolving her struggle, her lips parted to speak. "Takeshi, Amy and I ran into River today," she spoke softly, unsure if her decision to tell was sound, "watch your back this year…"

"I'm not worried about River," Takeshi chuckled as he turned back to face his counterpart, finishing his thought with a smirk, "I beat him once, I can do it again."

"This isn't going to be like last year man. We sure knocked a lot of teams off on our way up to the top. We've got a target on us man, especially you," came Liz's response, just short of a shout as she pointed a finger at the team's forward.

"Yeah, but just think how much better we got last year. No one will be able to stop us, not even Velshtein," Takeshi countered, his expression growing more serious as he spoke, his legs moving him towards the exit again.

"I hope you're right man, but play it safe, ok?" Liz appealed gently, worry hidden within her words.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right Liz?" he flashed a grin over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

Shaking her head, the beginnings of a smile working over her lips, Liz allowed herself a soft chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder about that kid."

---

Lavender skies peeked through the spaces between buildings, the numerous stars blending into the street lamps' glow. The soft clap of rubber slapping against concrete carried on a gentle breeze, a young man clad in gray revealed by the light. Sweat glistened on his skin, his breath coming in quick gasps, his eyes boring ahead. Familiar landmarks flew by as he kept his quick pace, their appearance little more than a blur. Breaking stride in an effort to stop, he came to rest by a door bearing the number of his residence. Fingers fished in the pocket of a pair of baggy sweatpants, finding the desired object, he pulled a key from his pocket. The key slid into the doorknob with ease, unlocking the door to a narrow hallway, doors lining each side of the passage. Trudging down the adequately lit corridor, his heart settling into its usual rhythmic beating, the door to his apartment drew closer. With the door unlocked, he entered his home.

Darkness greeted him, but quickly retreated at the flick of a switch, revealing sparse decorating. Stepping into the apartment's kitchenette, retrieving a bottled water from the counter, he gulped down the contents. He tossed the now empty plastic bottle into a bag hanging from a cupboard handle as he moved from the small space, coming to stare at a framed picture. Hanging squarely in the center of the living room wall was a blown up photograph. In the image: a pair of racing machines side-by-side, their foremost sections at a white painted line. "You got lucky Takeshi. I won't let you get the best of my again," the man promised in a low growl, "Next time the race will be mine."

To be continued…


	3. 2: Red Carpet Reception

_Chapter 2: Red Carpet Reception_

Moonlight poured through a wall of windows, mixing with the glow of a computer monitor. Seated across the room, dressed in only an undershirt and a pair of boxers, a young man watched the screen. His eyes held a little interest in the near-static figures displayed, while his ears listened intently. "Considering how well Team Satomi did in their first season, I'd say they have a definite chance to repeat. There upside is remarkable, and I'd favor them to win it again this year," the visage of a man of considerable age spoke, folding his hands atop the table he was seated behind.

"Is that your prediction, because if it is, it's a rather bold one, considering the pack behind them, chomping at the bit to take down the upstarts," a youthful woman responded sharply, casting an incredulous glance at the man.

"That may be true, but they certainly showed the world that they have the potential, having pushed the former league champs to the brink and then beating them," a second man, considerably younger than the first, defended, "But will they live up to that potential? And no one is even mentioning Sledge Mamma, or this year's newcomer: White Snow. It wouldn't surprise me, come year's end, if we had a logjam at the top of the rankings."

"You certainly can't expect those two veteran teams to lie down for a relatively green team again, or a repeat of last season's rookie success," came the woman's response.

"Well, that's what many of us were saying last year at this time, the vets didn't lie down, and look how it turned out," the elder man mentioned with a light chuckle.

"I guess we'll have to see how the pilots decide this on the track," Benjamin Bright declared with his usual exuberance. As the screen blinked off the distinct sound of a knuckle raping against glass echoed within the spacious room. Twisting around on his bed, he caught sight of a slender female standing outside his room, her hand resting against the window. "Crap," he blurted, nearly jumping from his mattress, feet tangling up in the thick blanket.

Slowly he regained his footing, kicking the mass of fabric aside as he dashed for his closet. Hanging from the closet door's knob was a pair of dress slacks, crisply draped over a wire hanger. In a hurried motion he snatched the pants from the door, yanking them from their hanger. Less than gracefully, he jumped into the finely tailored slacks, grimacing at the slightly snug fit. With pants buttoned, he jogged over to the door, allowing his guest entrance. "Sorry Fantine," he apologized sheepishly, waiting by the young woman long enough for the door to close before hurrying back to his open closet. "Takeshi," Fantine sighed, slightly displeased with her boyfriend's tardiness, "you should've already been ready. The limo is waiting in the driveway."

A simple white dress shirt covered Takeshi's torso, a scarlet tie wrapped around his neck as he stepped from his closet. Slipping the black coat over his shoulders, he completed the suit, his polished shoes reflecting the artificial light. "You should really comb your hair," Fantine urged gently as she moved close to Takeshi, straightening his tie and flattening his jacket's lapels.

"I tried," Takeshi answered with a lopsided grin.

"You look fine," she reassured with a smile, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Come on, we can't keep them waiting all night."

"Right," Takeshi agreed, lacing his arm around Fantine's and guiding her towards the awaiting car.

---

The Perks Center, the city's convention center was abuzz with activity. A steady stream of limousines flowed past the building's front entrance, each dropping a notable figure or two onto a red carpet. Swarms of fans and photographers alike lined the walkway, shouting out names or snapping various pictures. The entire area glowed with popping flashbulbs and swaying spotlights, a beacon visible for quite a distance.

A single white limousine pulled into place, waiting ushers moving for the car's door, opening it to reveal a slender blonde female. Gracefully exiting the car, she stepped aside, allowing the crowd to view the league's MVP. Deafening roars broke out, flashbulbs turning into a blinding display of light as the young man stepped from the car. His usual grin grew wider as he scanned the raging throng, squinting into the flood of illumination. Catching a sideways glance from behind his girlfriend's sunglasses, he stepped to her side, once again looping her arm through hers. Waving to the crowd both strolled down the carpet, Takeshi's face alight with glee. The building's double doors opened with the assistance of a set of ushers, the couple moving from the frantic outside. A moment's reprieve from the overbearing lights and sounds was broken by a small group of reporters firing their questions at the pair from all directions. "I'll catch up with you later. Enjoy yourself now," Fantine assured, excusing herself, a small pack of reporters trailing her.

Alone the eager horde pressed in, their recorders held to Takeshi's face to catch his every word. "How do you feel about Satomi's chances to repeat?"

"How serious is your relationship with Fantine?"

"What's your off-season been like?"

"What are your thoughts on this year's rookies?"

Wide-eyed, Takeshi lifted both his hands in hopes of stopping, or at least slowing, the onslaught of questions. Surprisingly, the bombardment ceased, leaving Takeshi slightly shocked. "So, um, yeah," he grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I have no idea what any of you just said, so I'm just going to…" his voice trailed off as he darted through the circle of reporters into the adjoining ballroom.

Glancing around the spacious room and finding it packed, Takeshi grimaced, '_there's no way I'm finding Fantine in this crowd.'_

"Dodging the wolves I see," a recognizable voice observed as a stocky man stepped into Takeshi's view.

"Oh, hey Mark," Takeshi greeted his team's mechanic. "Yeah. It's like they have a nose for me or something."

The response drew a hearty chuckle from the elder man, "Something like that."

The drone of the crowd grew in the wake of the shared greetings, Mark taking a sip from a small glass as both let their eyes wander. Quickly glancing at his watch, the older of the two returned his attention to Takeshi, "Well I need to find Miss Satomi before things start. She wants me to meet someone."

With a simple nod, Mark left, leaving Takeshi alone in the crowded room. Takeshi slid his hands into his pockets; silently relishing the peace that was surprisingly afforded him. Deciding that the beginning of the actual ceremony was nearing, the league MVP began a leisurely stroll towards the backstage door. As he weaved through the crowd all manor of praise rolled in from all directions, his head nodding in acknowledgement to each comment. The door neared slowly, Takeshi stopping as he reached it. Out of the corner of his eye, Takeshi caught sight of the team's owner. Her face beamed with laughter, but that wasn't what drew Takeshi's interest. A man had an arm draped over her shoulder; she had an arm around his waist, and a hand resting gently on his chest. '_Well that's new,'_ he thought with a raised eyebrow, pushing open the metal barrier.

The open door revealed an adequately sized passage, recessed lights offering dim illumination. Several fellow pilots populated the space, some chattering with their counterparts, while the others kept to themselves. "Takeshi," a young, male voice greeted flatly, garnering Takeshi's attention.

"River," Takeshi answered back, looking at the teen leaning against the near wall.

"Hope you got the message."

"Message?" Takeshi asked quizzically, scratching his head, his eyes displaying his curiosity.

Silently swearing, River stepped from the wall, lowering his voice to a threatening level, "That I'm taking you down, no matter what."

"You can try."

"Oh, I'll do better than that," River snarled as he leaned in close, his eyes narrowed. "Count on it."

Unfazed, Takeshi felt a sense of excitement well up within him, a smirk coming over his lips as he responded, "I am."

To be continued…


End file.
